


Crash Into Me

by Anonymous



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Rape, Sexual Assault, dead dove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "You’re not entirely sure what wakes you up; the ringing in your ears or the ringing of the building’s fire warning system still feebly trying to alert the corpses lying about to the smouldering embers that used to be your office block. Everything hurts but you’re fairly certain everything’s still attached, still functional. Unlike poor Sue from accounting. You can see her through one stinging eye. Or rather, what’s left of her. You squeeze your eyes shut again, squeezing out acrid tears. What the fuck is happening??"
Relationships: deathstroke/female reader, deathstroke/reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30
Collections: Anonymous





	Crash Into Me

You’re not entirely sure what wakes you up; the ringing in your ears or the ringing of the building’s fire warning system still feebly trying to alert the corpses lying about to the smouldering embers that used to be your office block. Everything hurts but you’re fairly certain everything’s still attached, still functional. Unlike poor Sue from accounting. You can see her through one stinging eye. Or rather, what’s left of her. You squeeze your eyes shut again, squeezing out acrid tears.  _ What the fuck is happening?? _

One minute you were under your desk, fumbling with your stupid charger because the usb wire had come unplugged yet again. The next, a deafening  _ BOOM _ and your desk was upside down with you tossed across the room, and all hell broken loose. Now the room is full of smoke and dust and water barely dripping from the ancient antiquated sprinklers. It smells like the backyard of your neighbors house on the fourth of July: fire and burnt meat. As you push up on shaky arms, you see the source; that bitch Mary from HR, only recognizable because of those goddamned fucking birkenstocks she always insisted on wearing. The entire front of her body has been stripped away by what you assume was a blast. Oddly you don’t feel very bad for her. That cunt had it coming. If she deserved anything, it was dying like this, mutilated beyond recognition in a collapsing tower of concrete.

Considering how much rubble covers the floor, you would’ve thought you’d have heard those heavy boots picking their way across the room towards you. 

Your body tries to squeal in response to the hand that suddenly fists itself in your hair and yanks you to your knees, but it’s smothered by the filthy air, making you cough and splutter instead. You can barely see. Tears stream from your eyes from the smoke, the disorientation, the pain; every sense overwhelmed. Then a blurry orange blob fills your field of vision. You don’t realize you’re screaming through the cough until a gloved hand that smells like an extinguished match covers your mouth.

“Screamin’ ain’t gonna help you, kid. All it’s gonna do is piss me off.”  _ Fuck _ , you recognize that voice. You’ve heard it on the news when they play footage of cops desperately trying and failing to take down the voice's owner before calling in Batman and his men, the big guns.  _ What’s his name again? _

Strange how your brain has suddenly decided to focus on something so inconsequential instead of, y’know, any kind of self-preservation tactics. Probably because you know deep inside that it’d be futile to try and fight.

But you’ve stopped screaming, and that seems to have pleased the masked figure holding you. “Huh, a bitch who actually does as she’s told,” He almost sounds impressed. “That never fuckin’ happens. You gonna start up again if I move my hand?”

You shake your head as best you can with it gripped between both his huge gloved hands. You can’t see it but you sense the smile behind the mask. Now that your vision has cleared a bit you recognize the mask now. It makes you feel sick, imagining the twisted lips and missing eye.  _ Deathstroke, that’s his name.  _

No sooner have you conjured a picture in your head of what face that name might fit, than he reaches up to fiddle with something at the back of his head. A grunt later and he’s pulling the hood away to reveal a face that isn’t quite what you were expecting. Long straggly grey hair curls around his shoulder now, framing an angular face, older than you expected, the remaining steely blue eye so piercing it completely distracts you from the eye patch covering the other, empty socket.

He must catch the expression of recognition on your face. “You know who I am?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, unable to nod because his hand is still holding your hair tight. “You’re D-D-Deathstroke.”

“Aww now now, I think we should be on a first name basis, don’t you? Call me Slade. What about you, kid? What should I call you?” You manage to get your name out without stuttering too much, and he repeats it back to you, licking his teeth as if he’s tasting it. Seeing if he likes it. “I reckon it wont be long til old Dickie-bird swoops down here to save the day,” he says, scratching his stubbly chin. “What’s say you and me have a little fun before he gets here?”

Dread slams into the pit of your guts at those words. Your fingers, still wrapped around the wrist holding your hair, start to feel numb as a new terror washes through you.  _ Surely not _ , you think.  _ He’ll get caught. Why would he take the chance? Why not just kill me? It’d be faster. _ You know he’d rather he killed you now rather than...after.

You’re snapped back to the moment by the pain. He drags you upright, again by your hair, making you stumble as you try to keep up with him, until he reaches an upturned desk. With one hand he flips it upright again as though it weighs nothing, and that’s how it feels when he finally lets go of your hair to instead take you by the throat, lifting you up and slamming you onto the dusty surface. Quickly he gathers your wrists into one huge hand, pinning them above your head.

Your skirt is hauled up roughly to your waist, underwear ripped away like it was nothing, the fabric friction burning your skin as it goes. It fucking stings, but you’re not given the chance to process it before a huge hand is slipping between your legs.  _ No, no! _ You clamp your thighs down, survival instincts finally kicking in, desperately trying to prevent that which you know is inevitable. You’re no match for his size and strength but goddamnit, you’ve gotta try. Shoving his knee between yours, he kicks your legs open again easily, but his mouth quirks up in a nasty smile.He withdraws his hand, traces it down the side of your face. It makes you feel sick to your stomach. Covering your mouth again, pressing you into the damaged surface of the table, he leans over you, practically nose to nose.

“I’ll give it to ya kiddo, you’ve got guts. Not that they’re gonna help you right now, but still. I appreciate a little fight.”

When he lifts his hand from over your mouth you start to tell him just how much fight you have in you, but you’re brutally interrupted by two gloved fingers pressing into your mouth, trapping your tongue, pinching it on your molars. For a second that’s all he does, staring at you with a hideous glint in his one functioning eye. Slowly, he edges them backwards, nudging your uvula. You don’t choke straight away, not until he pushes just a little harder. And harder. The moan you let out is wet and guttural when you finally start to heave.

Slade grins.

Suddenly the tips of his fingers are slamming over and over into your mouth, choking you, making you retch and convulse. Tears pour from your eyes as you cry around his thick digits, just trying desperately to catch a breath and not vomit, because you doubt puking all over the both of you would go well for you. 

Just as abruptly they’re gone, but only for a second. Then a rough hand is smearing across your face, spreading saliva everywhere. Slade keeps up that sinister smile, and you know you’ll be seeing it every time you close your eyes for the rest of your life.

“Look at me,” he says, in a voice that clearly brooks no argument. “Watch me, dollface.” He lets go of you completely, takes a step backwards as he reaches towards the left hip of his outfit. You find yourself obeying, a kind of sick curiosity churning in your stomach. There’s a hidden zip, running in half a Z shape from hip to hip then down along the crease of his hip, and he unzips it with an almost cruel slowness. 

_ Oh,  _ is all you can think to think when his cock drops out of the open flap in the outfit. You’ve never seen something so huge in your life, not in real life anyway. It’s thick, rock hard and standing proudly, and to your shame you feel your body react automatically, arousal pushing through the layers of terror to make you start feeling damp between your thighs. Slade can clearly see the look on your face, and a slow grin crosses his face.

“Like what you see, girl?” You shake your head as hard as you can, but he just laughs. “Really? Hmm. Think I’d better check…” His hand starts snaking between your thighs again, and you hate the fact you don’t try to stop him with quite the same fervor as before. The thick finger he trails up and down your lips, not pushing to penetrate (yet) is deceptively gentle. “Nope, can’t quite tell,” he murmurs before finally pressing harder with two fingers, pushing you open roughly. He’s warm, and you can feel the warmth from the leather of his gloves filling you, so alien compared to the feeling of bare fingers. You can already tell how wet you are, and shame colors your cheeks as he thrusts his fingers in and out a few times. “So now you’re lyin’ to me. Tut tut. I don’t like being lied to, kiddo”.

You don’t have a chance to ask what he means, because he removes his fingers and swipes them across your face, mixing your juices in with the saliva that was already drying on your skin. He’s rough, hurting your nose and teeth. That’s nothing though compared to how roughly he then rams his dick into you. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust to his girth or catch your breath, he just starts pounding into you again and again. You bite your lip, trying your hardest not to cry out. It hurts. It  _ really _ fucking hurts. But behind the pain there’s definite pleasure, and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that you’re almost enjoying this. Christ, he’s  _ thick _ . You’re soaking wet at this point, making the slide slick and easy, but it’s still a hell of a stretch

He growls, tells you to  _ “Fuckin’ look at me,” _ and you don’t want to obey but you do. You see sweat starting to beat on his forehead, the pupil of his one good eye dilated almost black. His breath catches in his throat as he grinds his hips against yours, grinds the tip of his dick against your cervix. It fucking hurts but that’s not why it takes your breath away. 

“You like that?” he rasps, and you don’t try to lie this time. Just whine and nod your head and finally let yourself moan out loud. Slade moans too, and you’re surprised at how it almost sounds vulnerable, especially when his voice stutters in time with his thrusts. “You’re doin’ so good kid. You’re taking my dick so well.” You keen high in your throat, wallowing in the praise as you wrap your legs around his waist, clenching your thighs tight to draw him in further. It still hurts but now you relish it, the way it just adds that extra something to the pleasure. With shaking hands you reach up, taking hold of his bandolier and pulling him down over you. Sweat drips onto your dusty face. Slades hands shift to take firm hold of your hips, digging his fingers in so hard you know he’ll leave bruises. You hope you survive to see them, but if you don’t then this is one hell of a way to go. “That’s it baby, I’ve got you, you’re doing amazing. W-want you to come for me,”  _ fuck, yes.  _ You’re going to come for him, come for him  _ hard _ . “C’mon, come for me.”

You didn’t even realize you were so close to the edge, but something about the demanding tone in his voice hits your brain in all the right places, and you cry out before you can stop yourself. You clench down on his cock, so hard that it hurts, and Slade makes a noise that sounds like he’s just had the air knocked out of his lungs. He’s so big you feel his cock throb inside you, filling you up, hot and slick. He comes so much you feel it start to leak out around your hole before he’s even finished. It feels...you don’t know how to describe it. Hot and wet and you know you should feel violated but honestly, this is the hottest thing that’s happened to you since...well, nothing this hot has ever happened to you. 

For a few seconds you continue to stare at each other, panting and sweaty. Slade’s eye roams across your face, mapping it, and you wonder if he’s trying to commit it to memory. For a split second you think he might kiss you, but then he leans up, pulling out with a soft whine. You feel his release start to pour out of you, but you don’t have the energy to do anything about it. You just lie there, waiting for the feeling to come back into your limbs. Slade tucks himself away, fastening his uniform again. You already almost feel like you miss him.

“You did good kid,” he says with a smile, walking towards the blown-open front of the building. But then he stops, doubling back towards you. He reaches into the inside pocket of your ruined jacket. Finding your business card holder, he slips one out and tucks it into some invisible pocket in his suit.

“Just so I know how to find you,” he smirks, then he’s out what remains of a window and into the darkness. 

  
  



End file.
